


Times Yet to Come

by Wolfsong6913



Series: Memories on the Edge [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Plothole Fill, Spoilers for Season 5, What to do Next, split personality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 03:05:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15963374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfsong6913/pseuds/Wolfsong6913
Summary: Haggar must come to terms with her feelings about Zarkon and Lotor, and decide how to move on now that everything is changed forever.





	Times Yet to Come

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short idea I had in the middle of the night. I've often wondered: Since Haggar clearly cared deeply for Zarkon even _before_ she learned about Honerva, and since it seems she also harbours some motherly affection for Lotor since her realisation of that relationship, how on earth did she reconcile her son killing her husband? Here's my interpretation of the answer.

She was in her labs when her druids found her.

She had sensed their presence two hallways away, their power - _her_ power, that she had infused in them - radiating brightly, catching her attention instantly. Only Zarkon and herself were brighter. And… Lotor.

Lotor. It was incredible how a simple name could make her hands shake and her heart pound the way they were now. Before, he had merely been an afterthought. A banished prince. Useful only on rare occasions, and infuriating even when he was needed. Haggar could have cared less what happened to him, so long as it did not impede her lord’s plans.

But Honerva… Honerva loved her son fiercely, with all the unyielding devotion that she and Zarkon had loved each other with. _She_ had feared for Lotor’s safety in the Sythim quadrant. _She_ had ordered Kuron to watch over him. _She_ hoped he was all right.

And now? How did she feel about Lotor now? Was she Haggar, as she had been for the past ten thousand decapheebs, serving quietly, peacefully, at her lord’s side? Or was she Honerva, who would have done the same thing, had she been in her husband’s place, who loved quintessense and Zarkon more than anything, and who had been united forever with* the former at the cost of her memories of the latter?

She didn’t know anymore. She wasn’t sure she ever would.

No sound heralded the druids’ entrance, save for the faint ‘woosh!’ of the doors as they slid open. She had already risen to face the entrance in anticipation of their arrival. Both druids entered silently, and stood without a word just inside the doors, awaiting her orders.

“Why are you here?” she rasped. “Report.”

“News from the Sythim quadrant, High Priestess Haggar,” the druid on the left reported. “Emperor Zarkon is dead.”

She had not been expecting to hear such words - had never expected to hear them, ever. The news hit her like a physical blow, and she staggered, falling to one knee in shock. “Wha- How?” she choked, her breathing becoming harsh, her heart hammering in her chest. For a split second, Haggar and Honerva were united in their mutual grief, horror, and rage. “Who killed him?” she demanded. She forced her legs to hold her at her full height, tilting back her head to stare up at where the lead druid’s eyes hid under his mask. “What happened?”

“The hostage exchange fell apart and became violent.” The druid’s voice was mechanical, each emotionless word tearing at her already-crumbling defenses. “Prince Lotor faced Emperor Zarkon in combat. After a heated battle, the emperor fell to his son’s blade. We retreated to inform you.”

She felt as though she had been utterly destroyed. Flattened. Crushed. From somewhere, emotion swelled. She was surprised to realise it was anger.

“You fools!” she berated the hapless druids. Black lightning sparked and crackled around her in dark bursts. Distantly, she noted that she hadn’t lost control like this for some time. “The emperor _cannot_ be dead! Has he not recovered from previous mortal injuries? Where is he? Bring me to him so I may tend to him!”

“We took the liberty of retrieving his body from the battlefield,” the druid said. He stood his ground against the dark fire, and only one who knew him as well as Haggar could see the fear he felt at the display. “I will have the others bring it in.” The second druid left at his words.

“You should have done so immediately,” she seethed. Inside, though, she was shaking. How badly was he hurt? Could he recover this time?

The druid reentered the room, with another beside him. They carried a long stretcher between them. On the stretcher lay an immense figure - Zarkon, still wearing the armor Haggar and her druids had lovingly crafted for his use. She saw no bright pulse of life from him, and true fear filled her for the first time. The druids set the stretcher down across a nearby table.

“Leave him to me,” she commanded tersely.

“Priestess,” the lead druid hesitated. “The emperor is - “

“Leave me!” she shrieked. A flare of black lightning accompanied her words, and the druids excited hastily.

She knelt by her lord’s side. His skin was pale, his eyes dull and unseeing. His armor was battered with scratches and scorch marks, and she saw with no small amount of concern the pair of cracked and _empty_ canisters on his back. Worst of all though, was the lack of movement of his quintessense.

Even when he had been mortally wounded by Voltron, even as he lay unconscious and practically dead, she had always been able to see that bright flare of quintessense that only they possessed. More quintessense than some small planets. It had been the one constant of Haggar’s life.

But now - it was gone.

Terrified now, she ran her hands over her lord’s face, desperate for a puff of air, a blink, _anything!_ She pressed her hands on his temples, searching for that flare of life.

“My lord,” she pleaded. “My lord, _please!_ Sire!” And finally, in a last, desperate croak, “Husband…”

Not even a flicker.

Defeated, she let her head fall forward, resting on the hard, ridged metal that covered her husband’s chest. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye, then another, tracing her marks as they ran down her face and fell on the armor with faint, soft, plinks!

“Zarkon…” she whispered brokenly. “Please…”

But she no longer expected an answer.

She sat that way for a long time, her head on her husband’s chest, her arms wrapped around his neck. She longed to feel his huge, clawed hand reach up and stroke her hair, or to hear his deep gravelly voice call her name. Either name. Any name. All she wanted was to have him with her again.

“I thought we wouldn’t have to part ever again,” she whispered harshly. “I thought we were going to live forever!” But the tears now coursing down her cheeks contradicted her sharp tone.

At last, her tears dried up, and she rose unsteadily to her feet. Her hood had fallen back at some point, and she sniffed as she ran a hand over her untidy white hair and rubbed the edges of her glowing yellow eyes. _Eyes like_ his _had been,_ a part of her whispered mournfully.

She would have to tell the empire now. There was no way around it. How many would have been him fall? Would Lotor…?

 _Lotor._ She had forgotten, for a while. _Prince Lotor killed Emperor Zarkon._

For a moment, all she saw was red. She would _kill_ Lotor. She would peel the skin from his flesh and the flesh from his bones in punishment. She would....

 _No!_ Honerva screamed from somewhere inside her. _We will not touch him!_

 _Even for Zarkon?_ Haggar shot back spitfully. 

She could feel the way Honerva trembled at the name, feel that overwhelming grief begin to rise up again. With tremendous effort, she pushed it back down.

 _Even for Zarkon,_ Honerva said, her mental voice wobbling. _I will not lose both members of my family._

She took a deep breath, trying to shoo the voices back into the depths of her mind. Uncertain, not knowing, she began to pace the room, stepping around cases of quintessense, ducking her carefully crafted tubes and machines, careful to avoid the sight of Zarkon’s body, resting on the table.

What should she do next?

 _Kill Lotor!_ Well, that was certainly an option. A life for a life. Then that meddling, murderous prince would be out of her way forever.

But… Lotor was her _son._ Could she really kill him in cold blood?

Once, she would have done anything for her lord. But now things were no longer so black and white as Zarkon and Haggar had been.

Perhaps there was still a chance for Zarkon? There had to be _something_ she could do to bring him back! He had once given everything for the chance of saving her. Shouldn’t she do the same for him?

But she had still been alive when Zarkon had brought her into the quintessense field. She had not been dead yet, merely fatally ill. Zarkon - he was dead. Fully, undeniably dead. She had seen enough death in both of her lives to know if there was a chance. And neither Haggar nor Honerva, in any of their many experiments, had ever seen any amount of quintessense revive a dead body. 

She did not collapse at the revelation. Nor did she burst again into tears. To any outward observer, there would be no sign that any conclusion had eben reach at all. Only her pacing slowed, then stopped, her gave locked blindly on the dark metal wall.

Her lord Zarkon was dead. Never again would she stand by his side, never again hear that deep, growling voice, nor see his brilliant (yellow? purple?) eyes or feel his gentle hands. The immortal leader of the greatest empire the Galra had ever known had fallen.

And he had been downed by his own son.

 _Her_ son. 

What could she do with Lotor?

Whatever happened, she decided, no matter how it is achieved, Lotor must never be emperor. He did not care enough for the empire she and Zarkon had spent thousands of decapheebs growing. He had his own plans, that much was clear, and he had shown that he was willing to throw aside whatever he did not need to get there. She would have to choose a better contender for the throne, but later. When her mind was no longer clouded by grief, nor split between lives as it was now.

But what else should she do with Lotor? Haggar raged inside her mind, demanding his immediate execution, while Honerva firmly stated that not a hair on his head was to be touched.

She began pacing again, unsure who to listen to. Haggar was the older, and stronger of the two. She had more time to become more deeply rooted. Honerva was newer, still recovering, but just as vehement.

 _Kill him!_ Haggar snarled.

 _Don’t you dare!_ Honerva hissed. 

And deep down, she know - she _knew_ \- she could not kill her own son. She wouldn’t. And in that moment, Honerva won. 

She stepped over to the stretcher. From a nearby cupboard, she removed a sheet, which she smoothed over her lord’s cold body. Tenderly, she closed his eyes, then pulled the shroud up over his head. It settled on his skin with a soft sound of finality. Her goodbyes done, she turned and strood toward the door, a plan for the future already formulating in her head.

Haggar had ruled for ten thousand decapeebs. It was time for Honerva to take a turn. And Honerva would do _anything_ to protect her son.

**Author's Note:**

> So there you have it! Credit to JadeClover for inspiration for general Haggar/Zarkon interaction, beliefs, and powers since their corruption. If you want to read some really well written Haggar/Zarkon stories, go find their stories. 
> 
> Please tell me what you thought of this story, and feel free to provide any and all _helpful_ critiques.


End file.
